


Love isn't blind

by Glowing_dimp_as_an_ember



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Mortal AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 06:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10484982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowing_dimp_as_an_ember/pseuds/Glowing_dimp_as_an_ember
Summary: When Will was younger, it wasn’t unusual for him to come across whispers, people saying, one way or another, that love was blind. Needless to say that, on that time, the small freckled blond didn’t understood what others meant by that, what the message hidden behind said words was supposed to mean. Love was a feeling, wasn’t it?





	

When Will was younger, it wasn’t unusual for him to come across whispers, people saying, one way or another, that love was blind. Needless to say that, on that time, the small freckled blond didn’t understood what others meant by that, what the message hidden behind said words was supposed to mean. Love was a feeling, wasn’t it? An impulse, an emotion born out of proximity and nice gestures, one that bloomed inside other’s hearts sometimes unexpectedly, without a warning or permission; how come that an abstract and untouchable concept could be able to have senses on his own?

Questions like those were the ones that the beings who spoke those words heard almost right after pronouncing them, the blue eyed finding himself unable to stop his mouth from opening to inquire about the topic, from trying whatever he could to try and obtain the answers his curiosity demanded inside his brain. The others never seemed certain of their own answers, their eyes roaming around rather nervously in some occasions as if it was a deity with immense power the one interrogating them and not a kid that could barely reach the stack of cookies his mother had hidden on a considerably high section of their cupboard at home. Perhaps, he considered years later, it was because they didn’t feel like dumping somewhat heavy information to a small child…or maybe it was due to the fact that the phrase had been tattooed into society’s brain as a default feature without someone knowing what it meant for sure.

The responses he got to receive were quite diverse: a detail always missing or morphing into something else, a word disappearing for a full not that well-constructed sentence to be add on its place, different kind of expressions that brought more confusion that enlightenment to his young brain cells, ones held way too many unnecessary details while the idea of others were barely elaborated.

Some said it meant that love was unpredictable, that the way it worked and played out didn’t enter into the territory of logic but in the plane of emotions, raw and wild feelings that couldn’t be controlled in any way. One cannot see reason within the unreasonable, especially since the later wasn’t in human’s powers, it wasn’t for them to manipulate.

Others said it meant someone was willing to overlook he faults of others they loved, forget their mistakes simply because of the sake of the feelings they held for them. In some cases the person he questioned added the physical factor, some even saying that the words most likely were linked to some inner beauty, in certain occasions because there was nothing else that could be seen or anything that one would consider worth seeing.

Will didn’t really understood how a trio of words, a phrase with such a small count of syllables could have numerous meanings yet still bring numerous doubts. That one simple phrase that people seemed to be so fond of using, so simple yet so complicated, one that could both mean something positive or negative, happy or sad, flattering or insulting, confused him to great lengths.

Not even the research he did on his own seemed to get any significantly pleasing result, not even search engines appeared to have a proper explanation or a somewhat close to clear answer for his predicament, the question that more or less didn’t feel like getting out of his brain. The blue eyed wasn’t sure what was he exactly expecting back then, after all, humans, actual living beings were the ones that modeled and created technology; if they didn’t have a sole and clear answer, it was highly unlikely a computer would, and it didn’t.

The information couldn’t truly line up when talking about the origins of the particular sentence, the responses going from traditional mythology which implied a winged being just crazily shooting arrows from the sky while blindfolded, thought that didn’t quite amused Will when he had to get out of the house, no longer being protected by a roof, to times when apparently people thought it was somewhat funny to see every single character of a play die in a rather tragic manner. Clearly that wouldn’t help him find out the meaning, not that he was actually expecting to, although he had to admit trying to understand how love functioned was considerably easier when only referring to science itself, plus it allowed him to avoid thinking of sharp arrows raining from the sky.

Either way, everyone, to some certain extend, could agree on one small thing: love was not something simple to understand, one could swear off love forever and fall for someone the following day kind of complicated, it simply didn’t follow logic. It could be out of sigh a second and then just right around the corner to stumble into it.

“What are you thinking about?” A voice suddenly interrupted his line of thoughts, the course of memories finding itself being stopped before evaporating into the air, a moment of silence not taking too long to settle in, an indicator that showed the blue eyed that someone was expecting, and waiting probably not that patiently, for an answer.

“Uh, what?” That question was seemingly the only coherent thing his brain managed to come up with, the only syllables, if Will could really call them like that since it made them sound as if they were by far more meaningful than what it probably looked like, his considerably dry mouth was able to pronounce.

He heard a huffing sound coming from besides him, leading to the blue eyed, rather unconsciously, soon finding himself turning his head slightly to look to the spot next to his position. The blackness of the other’s clothes was even more noticeable when contrasted to the greenish environment and aura the park they were currently in provided, making the smaller boy stand out rather than blending in, although Will would be lying if he didn’t wonder how exactly he wasn’t burning under the considerably intense heat.

“You’ve been deadly quiet, that’s not that usual in you, especially when the sun is shining the way it currently is up in the sky.” His companion elaborated, probably in hopes of getting an answer sooner than later instead of the veil of quietness that apparently had fallen over the environment almost immediately after they both mutually decided to lay down to rest after the small picnic the blue eyed had suggested to have. Will could almost see how Nico was moving his eyes somewhat annoyed behind the dark glasses of equally obscure frames he was wearing, although a hint of worry could also be spotted on his voice. “So? What is it?” The Italian asked in a softer tone, raising an eyebrow slightly, his face muscles tugging up light one side of the item covering his irises as if there was an invisible string currently being pulled.

“I was thinking about love.” Will finally answered after letting a cold breeze of air enter his lungs, his head not moving from the position it was, still facing the other but his eyes were not fixed on his soft features anymore.

“Are you going to get philosophical?” Nico inquired, slightly amused, as soon as the blond finished speaking, his arms crossed and close to his chest as his fingers absently rubbed the skin near the area. Even though the blue eyed understood the reasons behind his actions, that didn’t prevent him from wondering how it possible that the other didn’t was seemed to be bothered by the heat whatsoever.

“As much as I know you would like me to voice my inner monologue, I think we came here to enjoy the weather.” That was his playful response before he let his glance roam around.

It was a particularly warm day, the sunlight dancing bright in the sky where only a couple of delicate clouds could be seen, occasionally being briefly hidden by a large group of singing birds.

There was also beauty on the ground below the bluish floor of the above. Green grass reached for them, apparently trying to escape from the blanket that was covering a fraction of it from the radiation of the yellowish star, trees and flowers welcomed them once more as they moved from side to side faintly due to the intervention of the current of air.

His blue irises stopped on an already grown up plant of lilac petals and considerably long leaves that swung from time to time in a way that sort of reminded him of the movement of the weaves during a quiet day on the beach. It’s rather marked lines of texture could be seen from the afar, the delicate yet still defined grooves probably getting to have a quite interesting feeling to when explored with one’s fingertips.

“Here,” Will said as he carefully separated the delicate flower from the ground to then placing he stem on one of Nico’s hand with extreme care. “this one is nice.”

The later turned his head to face the direction where his voice previously came from. “So you thought about throwing its pollen over me?”

The blond couldn’t help the soft smile that invaded his face nor the small roll of eyes that follow playfully. “Don’t worry, Neeks, nothing is ruining your dark and brooding look.”

“Guess I have no option but to believe you…”

“Do you really have that little faith in me?” He asked, a small pout appearing on his face, which really made his words sound in a rather different tone.

Either the question or the way Will had said it, probably a mixture of both, made the Italian’s lips tug up lightly, a faint and short laugh making its way out of his mouth.

“Just enjoy the weather, Solace.” He stated before turning his head towards the sun, its light reflecting on his glasses as well in the small toothy smile that was spreading along his face.

And with that being said, they blended into silence once again, a rather comfortable one that wrapped hem both like a warm blanket that he didn’t dare to take off. His blue irises quickly glanced at Nico, who had brought the beautifully grown flower closer to his noise so he could detect its scent in a more clear away as his fingers carefully stroked its hydrated petals. The blond couldn’t help but grin brightly at the sight.

_Love is blind_. Sometimes he wondered what Nico would think of the phrase. Would he found logic within the illogical in a way other people didn’t think it should be possible or should be done? Would he find holes on the perfect reasons the arguments of others came from?

The blond hadn’t really thought much about said trio of words in a while, its meaningfully short length vanishing in a pool of more grounded worries during a past that was already catching dust, worries that were related in a more literal way to reality itself, to his life as well as its current state. He wasn’t certain of what exactly had made the topic swim towards the surface of his mind.

Perhaps it had to do with the environment of tranquility, the relative quietness that his surroundings had constructed, so different from the usual machine noises that was the somewhat constant symphony on his daily life. Maybe it was because the relationship he had was something he wanted to preserve, not frozen in time but rather have it growing in abundance. Having to search for the answer somewhere else, however, was still a possibility, his mind sometimes wasn’t the most organized of places.

Perhaps what bothered him about the expression was the implication that there were no other ways to see without seeing, to catch glimpses and details that would later on form a complete puzzle without having to go for the most obvious or easiest of paths. The way other paths were pushed aside for others to be prioritized over them, those former usually tending to be ignored and condemned to oblivion.

Love being blind would imply not falling for someone but rather falling for an idealized version of a person, a fractment of their identity, not them as a whole. It would be as if choosing one of the sides of a coin, judging both by a criteria that’s simply unique for one of them, transforming elements like emotions that in most situations would be considered on the category of sweet and caring into twisted concepts, a pair of glasses that showed a deconstructed and deformed version of reality. The mere idea made feelings look like abstract concepts that could twist a person in various unimaginable.

_Love_ , he concluded, _isn’t blind, not really, at least not in the way people assumed nor in the one people used to tell him whenever he asked_.

True, love could cloud someone’s judgement, but what couldn’t be seen at plain sight could held even more value than what could be easily detected by a couple of glances shot at the right direction. Love isn’t perfect, not really are the beings that profess they feel that way towards someone with every single nerve of their body, but that’s certainly what makes it special.

When he used to ask why was a feeling blind, the features in most of the faces of the people he had, in a way, practically demanded an answer rom shifted to discomfort and some even annoyance, as if they were blaming the emotion that was more often than not related to the scientifically inaccurate portrait of a heart. Perhaps that was denial disguised by an answer. Love isn’t the one unable to have a clear image of reality, the responsibility of that resides in every single one of them all, in their own eyes and expectations, in the own mirrors sometimes we all tend to build up for them to reflect what we want to be able to see. Isn’t that what eyes and mind usually do for everyone at some point?

While eyesight is a gift, it can slowly turn into something darker, seeing someone on a surface level can’t really be avoided, something poisonous that charges takes upon itself to prejudice people that are really nothing else but a face without name. If love is truly blind, would it matter that much? Perhaps what would be considered important are the unnoticeable things, the right gestures and words as well as what’s present in them all. The right touch. A caring whisper.

_No, love isn’t really blind, in most situations it is actually capable of seeing more than what we possibly could._

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm also on tumblr](http://glowing-dimp-as-an-ember.tumblr.com/)


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